Healing
by SloanAndGrey
Summary: When Andrea fights her way to survival and is found by Rick, she's having troubles adjusting. And he can't stop blaming himself for everything.
A/N: Just some good ole' Rickdrea. Rick/Andrea. Nothing more. Nothing less. Well, maybe a bit more. Enjoy.

* * *

 _Blood's dripping down her face, as she lies in the corner. She's bleeding out, she knows it. Damn cuffs had caused her to bleed, and she has a huge gash from the chair, and a spot where the pliers had nicked her well. She's in pain, too weak to move. God, why couldn't someone show up? She's tired. She's spent the past day in there. It's been a day, right? No... two. Two? Maybe three. She hasn't seen light, or a meal in a long while. Water had been given once every day by her true enemy. She'd take it, and sometimes he'd hold it away from her to treat her like some fucking animal chained to a chair. God, she wanted to take out his other eye._

 _Her eyes dart up to the door, as she hears footsteps. She prays to herself that it's not a walker, somehow. She's too weak to stand, looks up at the door weakly before she hears the count to 3. 1... 2... 3... BAM. The door had flung open, and she stayed perfectly still. She then feels like it's a mirage... some kind of dream that she's dreaming as her soul leaves her body. But she hears Michonne's katana drop, and she looks up. Her friend is at her side, running fingers through her hair._

 _"Andrea..." she says, marveling her friend. Andrea lets out a smile, glad to see her. She'd missed her old friend._

 _She looks ahead of her, seeing Rick kneel down and look into her soft, doe eyes. Daryl's in the corner, watching guard. She wants to tell them where he is, but she's sure that she's too late._

 _"I tried to stop him. —Carl... Judith... the rest of them..." She breathes out, feeling how dry her mouth is. "Are they alive?" She asks. God, if she'd let him slip through her fingers and kill any of them..._

 _"Us. The rest of **us**." Rick breathes out, as he looks into Andrea's blue eyes. _

_Andrea can't help but want to cry at that word. Us. She closes her eyes to draw back an imaginary tear, because truthfully, her body can't spare water. But she sees herself shove a gun up to Rick, tackling him back onto department store inventory boxes. The look on his face when he sees Carl. And Lori. And all of the times he's been a good man. God, he was a good man._

 _"We're getting you out of here." Michonne says quickly, shoving Milton's body to the side with her foot, as Rick begins to pick Andrea up._

 _Andrea can't help but let out a cry of pain at the touch, and Daryl rushes to Rick's side, but Rick nods him away, shaking his head. Andrea feels Rick adjust her in his arms, as Daryl takes the lead and Andrea is taken out of the tomb before feeling herself slip into something deep. Sleep? Maybe. It feels good, though. And there's no light, so she trusts it._

...

She awakens with the sun shining on her. Adjusting her body, it's sore and stiff. She's covered in blankets; thick ones, on an old mattress. It takes a minute for her to figure out where she is, exactly; but once she does, she's relived. Yet, she feels the constant fear of him. _When will he take me, again? Chain me up?_ It's unlike her to think of these things, but really, she can't help it. After being strapped to a torture chair in a the core of Woodbury for God knows how many days, she's got some kind of anxiety brewing in her. Her fingers trace the scars where the cuffs had dug into her, and the blood stains are gone. The redness isn't, but it's going to be soon. She can tell.

Her body aches. She feels as if she's been thrown off a cliff, catapulted back, only to do the same again. But... she's comfortable. She likes the feeling of the bed, even though it doesn't compare to the one she had in Woodbury. She's warm, and she's just... _comfortable._ She hadn't known that for days when she was trapped, and had missed the luxury of the most simple human rights. That's when she realizes she's been strapped of clothes. She's got a bra on, and it's hers. Panties? Yep. She knows, because she kept them in her drawer at Woodbury in Philip's room.

Fingers extend out, as her arms do the same, grabbing the metal bar that holds the bed above her up. It's slightly rusted, and stained with a brown, but she knows its clean. _Lori must have scrubbed this place clean,_ she laughs in her mind. _Damn woman would clean a frat house with 8 months of baby in her belly if she could. And she'd demand Andrea to help her._ Andrea pulls herself up, as she sees a shadow in the doorway, before the curtain is drawn back. It's a silhouette of a tall man, she can tell. She flinches, before seeing the sun adjust so she can see who it is. _Hershel._

He smiles at her as she eases up. He's got an IV and a glass of water with him, looking at the blonde as he makes his way in before letting the curtain fall back into place, as it was before. Andrea's silent, knowing she should say something, but her mouth is still so _dry_ that it's almost damn impossible.

"Well good morning," he says, deep farm accent coming out. And goodness, she's glad to hear it.

She smiles, eyeing the water. He offers it forward, and she's eager to take it. She gulps it so fast that she begins to choke on it, gasping for air. He props her up, hands getting her to sit up. She finally takes another sip, before calming down.

Hershel looks at the IV bag, before shaking his head. "You won't be needing this today, will you? I thought you'd be waking up today." He says before sitting down. He sets crutches to the side, sitting down on the bench. "The others have been eager to see you, but I've told them to stay away. Carl's happy to see you, and Beth's a little giddy too," he says with a smile. "She already told me that she's not giving up any babysitting duties, if it came to that," he laughs.

Andrea smiles, before feeling like she can at least make an attempt to talk. "Judith," her voice is hoarse, as she covers her throat. She immediately then reaches for the water, drinking more to help it. "She's... here?"

Hershel nods, as he packs up the IV. "I don't think she's on the other side of the fence. I hope not anyways." He says with a small laugh, looking into her eyes. "She'd in the other cell block with Rick, getting fed."

Andrea can't help but smile at the thought of Rick Grimes with a child in his arms, rocking back and forth as he holds a bottle to the infant. Truthfully, kids were never her forte. She had been deadset against them for the longest time, being a woman focused on her career. Men had came and go, and she was plentiful with relationships and sex, but she'd always used protection, and birth control. She wasn't ready before, but she regrets it now. She's happy Rick got a second child. He deserved that, no matter if it was Shane's or not. Hell, Shane had ranted to her plenty of times about the situation.

"They're moving all the Woodbury residents into this cellblock. But you have a cell back in our cell block, if you'd like," Hershel says, before standing up.

...

His eyes dart to the doorway where Rick is there, looking into the cellblock. Andrea turns, seeing him looking directly into her eyes. She's frightened at first, before she actually realizes it's Rick. The last time she'd seen him was in the tombs, but before, he was in the watchtower. She was so close. _So close._ She was even waving her arms so they could get her; she was home. But _he_ had stopped her. He pulled her to the ground, kidnapping her back to the hell hole of a town.

Hershel nods to Rick, before saying goodbye to Andrea and exiting the cell. Rick steps aside, letting Hershel out before letting her out. God, she's hurt, he knows. He can see it in her eyes. She isn't... _Andrea_.

"Hey," He says, as he slowly walks in the cell. She's calm, looking at him like he's a predator. She knows he isn't, deep down. She knows. But her body reacts to the way he sits on the bed, by going into a ball, holding her body to herself. She's comfortable this way, she tells herself, but Rick looks at her.

Hell, Rick had dealt with this. He wasn't sure what the Governor had did to her while she was in there, but he knows it was more than just chaining her to the chair and leaving her for the dead. He's fragile with every breath he takes, looking at her. Andrea's blue eyes are cold, but his blue hues are warm. Pacific and Atlantic, right?

Rick breathes in, looking at her. "Michonne's on a run with Daryl. Has been. We've gotta expand our search for food if we're gonna take in all these people," he admits, as he adjusts his boot on the ground. "I know you're good on runs, but you need to _rest_ ," He says calmly.

"Rick," she says, voice still somewhat hoarse. She hates it already, but hell, she's still recovering. "I'm okay. I'm... dealing."

He can only nod before he extends his hand out to her back, before she flinches at the touch, but she lets it happen. For a second, anyway, before pulling back. He nods, before standing up slowly and looking at her.

"If you need anything... and I mean _anything,_ you let me know." Rick's words are sincere as he looks into her eyes, before descending out of the cell.

She breathes in, letting out a tear. What the hell was she doing? This was Rick Grimes. The man who would save the world, but save the villain too. Or, at least, that's what he was on the farm. After her visit to the prison beforehand, she had seen change. But he was still Rick Grimes. The man who'd protect anyone he loved with his life, and everything he had. So why was she flinching at his touch? _Get it together, Andrea_.

...

The winter had progressed, and the cells are so cold that Andrea feels herself wrapped in a blanket all of the time. She's not alone, as she sees Beth bundling up on layers as she carries Judith, who is also in layers, feeding her. Every night the Woodbury people go to the cafeteria for their dinner, but truthfully, she likes her cell. She still hasn't moved in her other one, but that was out of laziness she tells herself. So she hears all of the residents go to the exit, to go to the cafeteria. She's left her cell for the bathroom and to talk with Michonne. She talks with her daily, and instead of going to the cafeteria for dinner, they sit in her cell on her bunk like teenage girls and gossip while they eat their dinner.

Michonne's going on about how the runs are much better with the residents starting to help out, and that they're nice people once she got to know them. The ones she could trust. Andrea nods along usually, but lately she's been talking more. She finds it easier to as her physical scars fade, and her voice has come back.

"We found a stash of Coco-Puffs today." Michonne says, spoon moving her corn around. "There were tons. So I had to sneak a box for myself," she laughs, as Andrea can't help but laugh too.

She sees how much more open Michonne is, now. Even when they spent the winter together, Michonne was... quiet. Reserved. But now, well, she'd opened up more than Andrea had.

...

Days pass, and as Michonne carries the trays up to Andrea's room, she sees Andrea on the balcony. She's got a jacket on; her jacket that had the white wool siding. Beth had done a great job at washing the blood out for her, and Andrea didn't care if she wore that jacket while she was chained. It was damn warm, and she liked it. So she wore it.

"Ready for dinner?" Michonne asks as she walks up the steps.

Andrea turns to her, nodding, before walking toward her. Her hair is down, in the hairstyle it normally is. "Hey... can we go to the cafeteria? I can't stay cooped up in this cell all the time," she admits. "And, well," she can't help but smile. "I miss them."

Michonne can't help but smile, before handing her the tray of food, before turning around. "Come on. I think there's still some seats open."

( A & A )

When the two reach the cafeteria, it's packed of people. Andrea inhales, knowing that it's hard, but she needs to do it. She has to. She can't let this be the thing that takes her down. She has to at least eat in the damn cafeteria. So she slowly begins to look around, seeing Glenn, Maggie, Rick, Carl, Beth, Carol, and Daryl all sitting at the table together. She can't help but smile, and she sees Maggie catch eye contact. Maggie smiles, before tapping Rick and saying something. Rick then turns around, looking at Andrea with a smile. Rick scoots over, telling Carl to scoot down before Andrea walks over with Michonne smiling. She's actually smiling. And Andrea is too.

...

Rick's taking care of Judith, rocking her for her morning breakfast as she works on a bottle. Her eyes look up into his, and he can't help but smile at the small, precious face below him. She's getting bigger by the day; Beth tells him that periodically, as she takes her for the day so Rick can get things done around the prison. The new residents were becoming adjusted, and production and the speed of things had just sped up overall. Rick would go to do something, and someone would tell him it's already done. _Oh, but did you—?_ Yes, Rick. Done and done. But with all of this work being done, Andrea is feeling like she can do more than just inside work. She wants to go back at it again.

Her scars have faded well; she sees the faint scars on herself when she takes a shower. The rings on her wrists, still red but faded into her peach skin. She sees the scar from where the pliers had scraped her. She tries to ignore them. And the scar on her face from where Philip had punched her for going against his grip so many times; it's faint. Hershel does occasional check-ups. She looks better everyday.

"Rick," Andrea calls down from the other end of the cellblock as someone walks by with a towel to go to the showers.

Rick turns to her, seeing her like she was. _Andrea._ Her hair is in a ponytail, and it bounces up and down as she walks toward him. Boots making noise against the cement floor as she nears him, and pants baggy, but still enough to highlight the ass that he can't help but look at. Lori's gone. She would want him to move on. Hell, she'd bring up how she did when she was with Shane. Only if they were in a mood to say it, though.

Andrea puts her hands on her hips, looking into his eyes. "I feel like we're back on that highway when I ask you this," she says. "I want my gun. I know you have it. It wasn't in the bag when I took off on the farm, and well, I've missed it. It was my father's."

Rick nods. "Sure. And you're gonna—?"

"Take watch. Go on supply runs. I need to do more than just housework. You know me." She says, before she watches him begin to walk to the bag of guns that sits in his cell. He's kept it for so long.

She follows him into the cell, as he starts to dig through a old sack. The gun bag is still in Woodbury, she thinks to herself. She can't even think to go back to that hell.

He turns around, gun in his hand for her as she goes to take it, only for him to pull it away. She gives him a small expression of annoyance before he speaks.

"I never said sorry."

She raises a brow. "For what?"

Rick looks down at the gun. "For not stopping him. For not checking out what I saw in the field the day he took you. For letting you stay there." He pauses. " _For not going back for you on the farm._ "

She's frozen, looking up at him. She's speechless, really. She knows the weight of all of that has been bearing down on him ever since. She can see it in his eyes. She takes the gun from his palm, holding his palm for a second before making sure the safety is on. _It has to be on. She never takes it off._ And she gets on the tips of her boots and gives him a peck on the cheek. It's small, but he can't help but swallow hard in an attempt to brush it off.

"I forgive you."

* * *

A/N: So yeah, more to be continued. Hope you enjoyed!


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